Dancing In the Moonlight
by rettevronnoc
Summary: There's a difference between habit and tradition. [PostRENT, Mimi!centric]


I don't own. I rent.

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Here's the thing about Mimi: she isher own person. If she needs to learn from mistakes, she has to make them—someone can't just tell her. Oh, no—she has to fuck up on her own.

She's headstrong. She's not this weak little stripper everyone thinks she is. No, no—Meems is ferocious and vivacious and her own damn woman! She's persistent as a bull, and half the time she's with Roger, she knows he's only there _because _she's so persistent.

Angel loved her for who she was, so why couldn't they? The drag queen had promised the feline of Avenue B that she'd make the others see; make them see that Mimi was who she was and they had to let her _be _who she was.

Mimi loved heroin. She also loved Roger. And Mimi _never_ promised Roger she'd give up her habit. As long as he never knew, she was fine.

That was another thing. Mimi could control her addiction. _Roger _was the pathetic one—he couldn't control it. Mimi could, though. She could go months without smack if she wanted to. It's just…she _didn't _want to.

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Once, after a long night at the Cat Scratch, Angel and Mimi were on the way home when Mimi declared, "I want some smack."

Notice that it's not _need_ or _crave_. She just wanted some. That was life. Angel accepted that, smiled, and skipped off toward Central Park with Mimi.

"And for you, m'ame?" The surprisingly charming dealer addressed Angel, who shook her head.

"No thanks, honey. I'm just fine."

Mimi always envied Angel for her ability to accept people and their lifestyles and _never _need their lifestyles. Angel had enough natural highs to keep her happy. More than happy.

Meems thought it was rude to get trashed when her best friend was over, so she'd only do enough to get her a little buzzed. Never actually _high _though. It's not like Angel cared; in fact, Angel had gotten HIV from looking for a needle for her friend. When she found out, she shrugged,

"Things happen for a reason, sweetie."

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So, tonight, Mimi only gets a _little _buzzed, like old times. Roger is upstairs with Mark, thinking that Mimi has one more hour at the Cat Scratch. Maureen and Joanne are vacationing in Virginia. Collins is working late at NYU, and Benny is off in Denver or some place like that, screwing his wife. Angel's not with them.

Mimi is the happiest person on the face of the Earth.

Just like her old days with Angel, she turns up the volume on the crappy radio she had stolen with the drag queen, pours herself a broken glass of Collins' wine, takes off her pants, and pulls off her shirt, leaving her in panties and a tank top.

She laughs, remembering Angel sporting some lace panties once…well, several times. They always laughed, and the wine increased those giggles. She giggles again and again, turning up the volume even more, and begins dancing.

It's not really dancing—it's sporadic, wild movements that she and Angel liked to call dancing.

In a few minutes, when Roger stomps downstairs and demands to know how long she's been home, her half-used stash will be hidden in a place where he'll never find it, and her tiny high will have been grounded. She will demand he go get Mark, and when the two come down, she'll undress them to their boxers. Then, she'll _really _crank up King Harvest's "Dancing in the Moonlight," and they'll all dance together. Roger will never know she's still getting smack. One day she might even stop, but it won't be for him. It will be for Angel.

In the meantime, however, she's dancing with her best friend, her confidant, her counter-part. In the meantime, Mimi is dancing with Angel, and it's all she could ever ask for.

_We like our fun and we never fight  
You can't dance and stay uptight  
It's supernatural delight,  
Everybody was dancing in the moonlight_

_Dancing in the moonlight,  
Everybody's feeling warm and bright  
It's such a fine and natural sight,  
Everybody's dancing in the moonlight..._


End file.
